


Kraken & Knight

by hcrlaws



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adopted Children, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Mention of Yara/Dany, Mother-Son Relationship, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 04:45:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19783525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hcrlaws/pseuds/hcrlaws
Summary: Theon carried the story that his mother told him of the kraken that turned into a knight throughout his life. Alannys Harlaw does not make a promise and not make it come true.





	Kraken & Knight

“And the knight lifted the fair maidens hand, and pressed a gentle kiss to it. The knight was no longer a kraken, but a handsome young man. His sins were far behind, the curse was lifted, and the knight and Princess were married four moons later. They had many heirs, all beautiful and intelligent like their mother and father... “ 

Alannys voice trailed off, eyes glancing towards the bright eyes that stared at her in amazement, like she had just told him the most amazing and inspirational story. It was a stormy night in Pyke, the sea hitting harsh against the rocks that held the towers up. The loud cracks of thunder and flashes of lightening across the sky had scared six year old Theon into crying, and caused his mother to come running to his aid, much to Balon’s displeasure.

She had opted to storytelling to calm the young child down and send him back to sleep, but it seemed the youngest Greyjoy was now just more awake. 

“That was the best story yet, Mama. I liked the part where he nearly died for the Princess, and all was forgiven and he turned back to a handsome knight.” The boy talked at a hundred miles an hour, causing a chuckle to come from the woman beside him. 

“That’s my favourite part too, baby.” She slid off the bed, tucking the furs closer to his body to keep him warm throughout the rest of the night. He had just recovered from the flu, he did not need it again. 

“Mama?” 

“Yes, Theon?” 

“Will I ever turn into a real kraken?” The fear was in the boys eyes, watering slightly at the thought of not being able to speak and being such a slimy creature. He would miss his family too much.

“I pray every night that you do not. But if the day comes that you do, just remember that the kraken from the story turned into a knight.” Alannys leaned down, her brunette hair falling long across her shoulders and down her back. She pressed a gentle kiss to the boys crown.

“Will I get a Princess as well?” 

It softened Alannys heart to hear her youngest asking such questions. Yara had never cared, Rodrik and Maron would just screw their faces up at the thought and comment on how they’ll have as many saltwives, if not more, than their father one day. But her boy, her baby boy, was so young. So innocent. 

“You shall have a Queen, my sweetling.”

With that, she lit another candle for the young boy to sleep easier, knowing the dark scared him, and left the room, closing the wooden door behind her. 

Theon was taken from his home at the age of ten, ripped from his mother's grasp by Robert Baratheon and thrust into the arms of Eddard Stark. The woman had wailed loudly, begging and pleading for them to take her with them, don’t let her boy go alone. There were too many dangers out in the world, on the greenland for such a boy. For a young Greyjoy. 

Now Theon was seventeen. Full of mischief, always making Lady Stark want to ring him by the neck. He knew she hated him, hated how close he was with her oldest son. Robb was his friend, best friend. He was the brother he chose, more of a brother than any of the two that came from Balon Greyjoy. He was kind to him. Of course, they had their playful jabs at each other, got into play fights and occasionally hurt the other during training with Ser Rodrik, but still more gentle than Maron. Or even drunken Rodrik. 

He had been fifteen when the raven had arrived from his sister, Yara. She would have been turning eighteen. The letter was short, bluntly telling him how their mother had passed away. Finally was in peace, finally resting. Theon had clutched the letter with his fists in Lord Stark’s chambers and cried out, angry tears running down his cheeks. He cursed Eddard when the man tried to comfort the young boy, tell him his mother was very sick and at peace now. 

Peace with what? Never seeing her son again? The other two slaughtered by Northern men. Eddard Stark’s men. Theon knew his mother went mad with grief. Everyone teased of it. Robb came to him once talking of the people in Wintertown, how they spoke of ‘The Mad Women of Harlaw’. He questioned if Theon knew said woman, and all Theon did was shove him off, shout for him to never call her that again. Robb never mentioned it again. 

So when she passed, Theon never told anyone. He drank himself silly at the brothel that night and had lost his virginity to an older woman. He had spent all the coins the Stark’s had gave him, and went back half dressed the next morning. But he never told a single person, not when Robb asked what happened, not even when young Sansa had quizzed him. 

The news made him angrier as the years went by. The grief never left, most likely because he never had the chance to fully mourn, much like he had never had the chance to fully get to know the woman who birthed him into the world. The first woman he ever loved. 

  


It fuelled his anger along with being called a wolf by his own father during his time of taking over Winterfell. Staring at any of the Stark’s just reminded him how he never got to say goodbye to his mother, how all of them got to be a family for so long, much longer than he did. Even the bastard was more accepted as a Stark than he was. 

Even during the time with Ramsay, as his memory slowly slipped away and Theon drifted further from him, he did not forget his mother or the story of the kraken turned into a knight. He reflected very much on his nights alone with the hounds in the kennels, on how he ended up turning into the kraken. Perhaps he hadn’t fully turned into the slimy sea creature, but he had acted like one. He had sinned, much like the knight had before being cursed. 

He wondered if being Ramsay Bolton’s pet had been his curse? Or if it had been the fact Robb had died, and he should have been by his side, and was not. Was that his punishment? 

As Sansa arrived back to Winterfell, he had hidden from her. For as long as he could, he would turn his back as she approached, hide in the shadows. He could not have Lady Sansa seeing him, that’s all Reek knew. 

Her fury was in her eyes when she finally did get to see him, she had breathed his name with a mix of shock and a mix of disgust. Of course, Theon had killed her brothers, or so she was led to believe. But Theon was gone. All that was left now was Reek holding onto the memory of Theon’s mother and her story.

  


They had escaped together, clutching each others hand tightly before throwing themselves off of the wall that surrounded Winterfell. He had never imagined escaping after trying to the first time, when Ramsay had tricked him into thinking he was there to help him, but as the snow crunched under their feet as they ran, still holding tightly onto the other, he took the first breath of the winter air, and felt free. Free for the first time in years. 

And he had thought, when he told Sansa to stay and he would lead Bolton’s men and hounds away, that he was finally going to turn into that knight and no longer be a kraken. That’s how the story went, right? His sins would be forgiven, all forgotten, and he would be a handsome knight.

But it hadn’t happened. Not as he attempted to lead the hounds and men away, not when he had shoved the sword through one of the men to save Podrick Payne, and not when he had told Sansa to go off to the wall, to go with Brienne and Podrick and go to Jon. Go back to her brother. 

He was still the kraken when he arrived home. When Yara had shouted at him for betraying her, for allowing some of her men to die for him to cower away and stay with Ramsay, and he was still the kraken when he had named Yara the Queen of the Iron Islands, only for Euron to come along and take it. 

  


Almost a year later, he was still a kraken. He had cowered in front of the Dragon Queen, he had cowered and thrown himself into the sea instead of saving his sister, much like a kraken would do. 

As The Silence had sailed away with Yara on it, he had prayed for the Drowned God to take him down to his watery halls, where he could be with his mother again and finally be at peace. But he had no such luck, and had to face Jon Snow’s rage. 

He had saved Yara, and had still been a kraken. He still felt fear, and as he stood in front of Daenerys and Sansa, and pledged himself to the North, pledged himself to fight in the battle against the dead, he had only dressed like a knight. He was not truly a knight. 

The fear was still heightened as he fought the dead off with arrows, fire covering the head of them. But as he turned, last Ironborn standing, and attempted to apologise to Bran, and heard once more, how he was accepted as a Stark, how he was home, much like Jon had told him, the fear had left and he felt nothing but courage and determination as he faced the Night King head on, spear held in his grip. 

The words of Bran rang in his mind as he ran forward, shouting like a warrior would. And he felt like a knight, for the first time in his life as the Night King’s own spear went straight into his gut. 

He laid out on the snow, bleeding, world fading away from him, and couldn’t help but smile. He was no longer a kraken, but a knight. Just like his mother had promised and prayed for him. 

He was sure he would die out there, in the Godswood, at peace with the fact that he had been a knight. A brave knight just like the story, but perhaps the Drowned God knew that there was still apart of the story that had been promised, and not been fulfilled. 

  


Perhaps that’s why he had survived, why he was found and had been stuck in bed for weeks with stitches deep in his torso. Perhaps that was the reason he had been left with another scar that went up his stomach. 

Theon had been the first to take out his sword, raise it into the air and shout “Queen of the North” to Sansa Stark on her coronation day. He had called her the Queen of the North on their wedding day, moons later. And even as she tried to offer him a spot beside her, as King of the North, he had declined, and told her of how he only wished to stay a knight. To be her sworn sword. 

  
  


“And the knight lifted the fair maidens hand, and pressed a gentle kiss to it. The knight was no longer a kraken, but a handsome young man. His sins were far behind, the curse was lifted, and the knight and Princess were married four moons later. They had many heirs, all beautiful and intelligent like their mother and father... “ 

The young girl stared at her father with wide eyes, full of excitement. She was meant to have been sleeping hours ago, but here she still sat, asking for another one of his stories. 

Theon and Sansa had been blessed with two children, one just a babe in arms. Robb, was the babe, and Alannys, full of mischief with her bright green eyes and flaming hair, was age five. Of course, they had been adopted. Many children were left parentless after the war, and Sansa had picked the two out, the two times they had went to visit the orphanage in Wintertown. They had both agreed on the name Robb, but Sansa had allowed him to name their daughter. Of course, Theon had chosen Alannys. 

“So… that man was a knight? Just like you, papa?” Her curious voice spoke out, staring up at her father. Her furs were tugged to her chin, candles causing a shadow across her face. 

“Yes, sweetling. But he had been a kraken before.” 

“And then he got his princess… Did you ever have a princess, papa?” Her eyebrows raised, tilting her head to the side as he tucked her in further. 

“No. I just had a Queen, your mother.” 

The young girl pursed her lips out, nodding her head in satisfaction with his answer before she added on. “I think I would like to be a Queen someday. And have a Queen of my own, like aunt Yara and aunt Daenerys.” 

Theon just smiled, lighting another candle so his daughter could sleep peacefully, and not be afraid of the dark. “You can have whatever you want, princess. You know your aunt Yara named you her heir, so the Iron Islands is yours when she passes.” 

“I don’t want aunt Yara to die. Or any of my family.” She pouts, folding her arms over her chest.

“We never do. But we cannot stop the Drowned God when he decides it’s time and we have done all we have to do in life. You know that, Lanny.” 

The girl just huffed, burying herself further under the sheets as Theon moved closer to the door. He was just about to step out when she spoke up once more.

“Did you create that story yourself, papa? About yourself?” 

His eyes dropped, but a smile formed on his lips as Theon shook his head. “No sweetling. A very special person told me that story when I was a boy, and I carried that story throughout my life. And now I pass it to you, and to your brother, and hopefully you can tell your children the same story someday.”

She was sleeping by the time he had finished, causing a chuckle from him. Theon just stepped out of the room and shut the door, heading down the dimly lit hallway towards the bedchambers he shared with his Queen. 

“Is she finally asleep?” Sansa had asked, laying her book down onto her lap. Her hair was laying loosely across her shoulders and down her back as Theon climbed into bed beside her, both of them curling up underneath the furs. 

“Yes. She requested another story is all.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Alannys & Theon fic that I've written, but this idea has been in my notes for a while and I decided to finally write it. I added in the adoptive children part today after fancasting Alannys and Robb. Hope you all enjoyed reading! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome.


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